


I Know of Restlessness

by Gemz0rz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton is a not-so-secret bottom, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Pure Smut, i blame my team, idek, trash party
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemz0rz/pseuds/Gemz0rz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha and Clint go undercover in the least vanilla way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know of Restlessness

Clint had sat through an uncomfortable 6-hour-long briefing. It was especially unfair when Natasha had been excused on the grounds of a single comment:

" _I'm familiar_."

So he'd been left for six excruciating hours opposite Maria Hill, who may have had even less fun than he had -- but it was hard to tell. He thought she'd cleared out faster than usual at the end of it all... but then it was Taco Tuesday in the caf. Maybe she'd been rushing off for the guac? In any case, Natasha was waiting for him (and for the heavy **knock knock knock** that announced his presence on the other side of her door.) Most everyone knocked, but it was only Clint who waited for her answer.

"Come in." His knock rhythm was always the same.

"Thanks for that," he said by way or greeting, resisting the urge to flop onto her mattress -- but just barely. The open bottle of red nail polish she was painting onto her toes was the only thing that stopped him. Instead, he flopped down onto her unrolled yoga mat, throwing an arm over his face to shield his eyes from her ceiling light. He didn't need to look to tell that she was grinning.

"If it makes you feel better, it was more to punish Hill than it was to see you suffer." Clint wasn't sure he believed her, but they had bigger things to discuss.

"So..."

Natasha finished painting her toenails, capping the bottle before fixing him with a Look.

"So."

Clint huffed a sigh, sprawling loose-limbed against the mat.

"So we should practice or something. We've only got two days." It was clear then that he had no idea where to start. Luckily, Natasha did. Swinging her legs around to the side of the bed so that she could sit up properly, she patted the composite wood siding.

"C'mere."

There was a lilt to her voice that Clint picked up on immediately, something that wasn't quite the Natasha he knew and yet still reminded him of her. At least, it reminded him of the way she always seemed to manage her shit. Of how easily he could hand his trust to her, whether they were sparring or fighting for their lives or hanging from a building. So he lumbered over, his shoulders not quite as tense as they'd been when he'd walked through her door, taking an easy perch beside her.

...Which was when he felt the pressure of five slim fingers at the small of his back, directing him gently forward until he slid down to sit on the floor, back resting against the bed.

"I'd like you here," was all she said by way of explanation. He thought to say something, but changed his mind uncharacteristically quickly. His temple rested against her thigh, breath skimming the fabric of her yoga pants even as her nails did the same to the nape of his neck.

"You took notes," she murmured, amused.

"You'd be surprised how much of that wasn't new information, Tasha."

The redhead laughed, low and warm. Most people had never heard the sound.

"I probably would." She rubbed gently at the space behind his ear, watching the way his eyelids drooped in pleasure but never closed. "The only thing we can really do with the next few days is spend it getting comfortable in our roles. The club is participatory guests only, but most of the time that is just going to entail making sure our dynamic is believable." Which had never been a problem before, so... at least they had that going for them.

"Mhmm," he mused, and her fingers tightened in his hair before the rumble had even died in his throat.

"I'll be expecting 'Yes, Miss,'" she reminded him, making no move to hide the sharp smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. Clint just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Miss," he said prettily, tone dripping with sarcasm. Natasha made a disparaging noise, her tongue clicking.

"You want to skip directly to the sex, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss," he answered again, considerably more sincerely. Sex would hardly be the most intimate thing between them during this op. They'd been hooking up for about a year now, and far more promising was the way Clint's eyes had rolled a little when she'd pulled his hair. They both still had dozens of secrets between them, and it was those that she was after when she stretched to a stand.

"So strip."

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously to be continued. I regret nothing.


End file.
